


Rain On His Lashes

by kuonji



Series: Everything [2]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"I love you," Starsky said simply. He always said it more often than Hutch did, even though Hutch had said it first.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain On His Lashes

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative Links:  
> <http://starskyhutch911.livejournal.com/352545.html>

The breeze was stronger than Starsky would have liked. In the deepening dusk, it threw invisible grains of irritating sand on their bare legs and chilled the side of his face. The only good thing that he could find about it, he mused, as he grinned sideways at his companion, was the way it tousled Hutch's overly long blond locks every which way, giving him a boyish look.

Hutch, seeming to sense his gaze, turned to meet his eyes with an answering smile. His mood was apparently unaffected by the vagaries of the Southern California oceanside weather. "This was a good idea," he said, in that low, intimate tone that always yanked at Starsky's gut and got his heart pounding.

It wasn't that Hutch was meaning to seduce him. Starsky knew _that_ tone as well. No, this was Hutch's 'I'm so happy! Aren't you, too?' voice. It always made Starsky want to throw his arms around his partner and hug the breath out of him.

Instead, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and said lightly, "Of course. All my ideas are good." He dodged the anticipated cuff to his head, but not the following shove to his shoulder. He didn't return the playful assault. The object he'd closed his left hand around protectively -- obsessively -- was enough to still any thought of hijinx and capers.

He looked around. A group of teenagers was headed toward the parking lot, sandals dangling from their fingers and bodyboards tucked under their arms. There was another couple about a hundred yards down from him and Hutch, walking away from them. Otherwise, the beach was empty.

Starsky directed his footsteps in the opposite direction from the other couple, and, as he had counted on, Hutch automatically followed. He kept a slow pace, feeling the damp sand press back against the pads of his feet and toes. Hutch started humming softly beside him, and Starsky shuddered on an inhale at the sweet sound. He looked at Hutch again, and he caught his breath at how the first silver hints of moonlight highlighted his lover's hair.

He stopped. It had to be now. The sun was well below the horizon. There wasn't anyone else around. If they stayed here any longer, it would only get cold and dismal, not intimately dark as Starsky had planned. And Hutch was-- Hutch was so beautiful right now.

Starsky's hand convulsed around the velvet-covered object that bulged his left pocket, hidden by his shirt. "Hutch," he said.

Hutch gave him a weird look, obviously noticing the odd tone of voice. "Starsk?" He stopped. The wind blew his hair in a whirl, and the hazy light carved out black pits of doubt in his face.

"Hutch," Starsky repeated, feeling like a fool and yet exhilarated beyond anything he had ever felt before. Fumbling the box out of his pocket, he dropped to one knee. "Hutch, I--"

Hutch stumbled a step back as if he'd been hit. "What the _hell_ , Starsky?"

The words died in Starsky's throat.

All the relaxed joy had evaporated in an instant from his partner. Hutch was practically quivering with tension. "Get up," he all but snarled.

"Hutch, there's no one around."

"I said, get up!"

Bewildered, Starsky obeyed.

Hutch seized his forearm, the one that held the box. "Is _this_ why you wanted to come out here tonight? You just never give up, do you?"

"Babe--?"

"I'm _not_ your babe. I'm not your sweetheart. I'm not your honey. I'm not your _girlfriend_ , Starsky. And I certainly won't be your wife." Hutch shoved his arm away, almost throwing it. He turned and stalked back the way they had come.

Starsky gaped after him, rubbing his arm absently. Hutch's moodiness was one thing that he'd always had to contend with, since the very first week they'd known each other. Usually, he let his partner blow through his rants until he calmed down again. Sometimes, Hutch was even downright amusing, and Starsky didn't mind throwing a bit of oil on the flames.

There was nothing amusing about this, though.

He thought he should probably be angry, but he felt more forlorn and confused than anything.

Precious box still in hand, Starsky caught up quickly with his friend. No matter what else they were, Hutch would always be his best friend, and he knew they could work this out. "Hutch, what's wrong?"

Hutch knifed him with a glare, not slowing down a bit. Starsky couldn't see his face in the gloom, now exacerbated by an incoming fog, but he knew his partner. The hunched set of Hutch's shoulders, the stiff long-legged strides, and the jut of his head all told him exactly what Hutch's expression was. "What do you think is wrong, Einstein?"

Starsky shrugged, affecting nonchalance. He had to fire Hutch up so that he could smoke out the real reason behind Hutch's blow-up. "I made a very reasonable proposition, and--"

"Reasonable?" Hutch stopped dead, and Starsky had to make an abrupt about-face. "Weren't you the one who said that we could never be married? That it would never be _real_? What happened to all those stupid little quotes you had about how gays are inferior." He kept his voice to a low hiss, out of habit in a public place, despite the fact they were the only two people out here.

Starting to get a glimmer of the truth, Starsky shook his head. "That's not what I said." He reached out for Hutch's face, but it was still too soon for that. Hutch jerked away. Starsky settled for touching his shoulder. "Hutch, it doesn't matter what the law says. What we have is as superior as any relationship can be."

"Then what's this?" Hutch gestured contemptuously at Starsky's left hand.

Starsky juggled the box around, then squeezed it tight. He searched for the words to answer.

"Is this supposed to make us real, Starsk?" Underneath the anger, Starsky could hear fear. "I thought we already wanted to spend the rest of our lives together."

"We did!" Starsky hurried to assure him. And himself.

"Then... why?" Hutch reached for the box, but his fingers wound up hovering over it, as if he didn't want to actually touch it.

One of the things that intrigued Starsky about his partner was how Hutch could do away with labels and preconceptions. Sure, he got highhanded about it sometimes -- especially when his own ideals were bigger than even he could live up to -- but at his heart, Hutch was a truly compassionate human being who aspired, at least, to live his life entirely free of society's precepts.

Starsky couldn't do the same. He lived for tradition and symbols. He loved his flashy car. He rejoiced at the American flag. He wore the rings his grandmother had left him. He carried a picture of Hutch next to his heart.

He wished that he could tell Hutch that it didn't matter, that nothing mattered as long as he had Hutch by his side. But it did matter. He wanted to mark Hutch as his. He wanted to show his lover off to a jealous, oblivious world. He wanted to give his partner a piece of himself that meant forever to him. Wanted it so _bad_.

"We're as married as we can be already," Hutch said softly, when Starsky lingered in silence for too long. "We're married in all the ways that count. A piece of metal isn't going to change anything."

Starsky hung his head, glad that the darkness hid his features. He'd been imagining all week, Hutch wearing this symbol. What had he been thinking? This was Hutch, the man who gave him a damn tree for Christmas, for god's sake. No, not even a tree, but a _certificate_ for a tree. Of course he couldn't understand.

"It doesn't mean the same to you, does it? You have to... You have to hold something in your hand and look at it." Hutch put a warm hand on Starsky's chest and the other over Starsky's shoulder, like they were getting ready to dance. "Do you have to own me, Starsky? To make it real for you?"

"I love you," Starsky said simply. He always said it more often than Hutch did, even though Hutch had said it first.

The sorrow in Hutch's voice was tinged with defiance as he said, "You already own me. I don't mind, as long as I have you. But I can't-- I can't be a woman for you."

What?! Starsky put his own hand over Hutch's and stared at his lover in astonishment. "You're not... No. Hutch! Is that what you thought?"

Hutch dropped his gaze and shrugged uncomfortably.

"Hutch?"

The silence dragged out, marked by the _shish-shush_ of the nearby waves.

"You like to plan everything when we go out," Hutch finally blurted. "And, and you're always buying me stuff. And opening doors and putting your hand--" He glanced up, cutting himself off. "Don't get me wrong. It's great. But, but sometimes..."

"Aw, babe. I just love you so much, I want to show you every way I can. I don't know what to do with a boyfriend, Hutch. You know you're the first-- the _only_ man I want. Why didn't you say something?"

Again, Hutch merely shrugged -- but Starsky already knew why. It was the same reason Starsky was anxious to see Hutch wear his ring.

They were both afraid of losing what they had.

Starsky sighed, feeling a fool. He stroked the velvet once, ruefully, then pocketed the box. Both hands freed now to touch his love, Starsky put his arms around Hutch and hugged him breathless just as he'd been wanting to do all night. "I want you forever, Hutch. Any way you'll have me."

"Me, too. The same, Starsky." Hutch, normally articulate, stammered over the short phrases. He seized Starsky roughly and kissed him with his entire body. "Oh god, how I love you." He leaned his head against Starsky's shoulder. "I'll wear it, Starsk. If that's what you want."

Starsky didn't hesitate. "No, it's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"It's _okay_. We're real, Hutch. As real as anything."

They stood that way for a time. It was dark, and even if someone were to see them, they wouldn't be recognizable.

_"We can't live together either. Can't even-- Can't hold hands or go out to dinner or anything like that."_

Starsky took a deep breath of Hutch's scent, feeling content. Mostly.

"Well," Hutch said at last. "At least you'll save some money. How much did that rock cost you anyway?"

"Can't return it," Starsky answered before he thought.

Hutch jerked back. "Why not? Didn't you get it legit?"

Starsky scowled at the chiding tone as much as at the implications. "Of course I did. But I had it engraved."

"Oh, god. You didn't." Hutch sighed. "Let me look at it." He reached for Starsky's pocket, but Starsky ducked aside.

"I thought you didn't want it."

"Well, since you can't return it anyway..."

"It doesn't matter. If you're not going to wear it, then you don't get to see it."

"Give it to me, Starsky!"

"No!"

Suddenly, they were tussling and laughing, playing a mad game of keepaway. Hutch got the box out of Starsky's pocket, but Starsky grabbed it back and took off down the beach. His bare feet were more sure in the damp sand, but Hutch's long legs were a force unto themselves. Starsky made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder.

With a flying tackle, Hutch slammed into him, bringing them both to the sand. Starsky yowled as the edge of a wave caught him, soaking the back of his clothes. Hutch just rolled them both landwards and continued his assault. His sure hands crawled up Starsky's hips and waist, tickling him so that he was barely keeping his grip on the box when Hutch snatched it triumphantly and held it aloft, out of Starsky's reach.

They both stilled.

Starsky held his breath as they shared a long look. He rested his hands on the tops of Hutch's straddling thighs and waited. Slowly, Hutch lowered his hand. He broke eye contact with Starsky to study the box minutely in the light of the three-quarter moon.

Finally, Hutch opened it. "What...?"

"I couldn't afford diamonds. Not even for you, partner," Starsky quipped with a dry mouth. "It's chips of turquoise. All different shades." He took the ring with no protest from Hutch.

His partner let him up, and they knelt across from each other. Hutch held out his left hand diffidently. Starsky slipped the ring on.

"It fits perfectly," Hutch said, voice reflecting his surprise.

"I measured you in your sleep." Starsky grinned at the memory, remembering how he'd nearly had a heart attack when Hutch had stirred and suddenly turned to the other side, the string Starsky had been using to mark sizes still around his finger.

Stroking the thick silver band, Hutch murmured, "Topaz."

"Huh?"

"For you. Topaz. There's all different colors. Yellow and green and violet and... Starsky, this is beautiful."

Starsky snorted. "You can't even see it, it's so dark."

"Doesn't matter what it looks like."

Starsky smiled, understanding. "Yeah, I know."

"What's the inscription say?"

Nervousness gripped him. It suddenly seemed silly. "It's, uh..."

He could see Hutch's eyebrows twitch. "What?"

"It's not anything romantic. I don't know if you'd like it. I mean, one time you even said you _didn't_ like it. But you were just mad, I think, and--"

"Starsky!"

"Zebra 3," Starsky said in a rush. "It says 'Zebra 3'. That's all." He shrugged, embarrassed. "I know that's not all we are. It's just a code. After we retire, it'll go to someone else, but... it means a lot to me, Hutch. It means _us_ , don't you see? Us against the bad guys. Us making the world a better place. It's telling everybody we're partners.

"It's what other people call us together. Like, like sharing a name. Like living together. Like holding hands. Like we're one person. When I hear it on the radio, I just get this big swelling, proud feeling, like it's the most wonderful thing--"

Hutch clapped a hand over his mouth, forestalling any further babbling. "It's great, Starsk. I love it." There was no sarcasm in his voice. In fact...

"Hutch, are you...?" Starsky touched Hutch's face and felt wetness.

"No, of course not."

Starsky laughed. He leaned in and kissed the tears from his beautiful, compassionate, sensitive, and stubbornly proud lover's eyes. "In ten years, when we're comparing stories with all our other married friends, I'll tell everyone it was raining. Okay?"

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I got into the S&H fandom, whenever I hear [Vienna Teng's song, City Hall](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rikj0WMGbDU), I get this image in my head of Hutch smiling, with a mist of rain in his hair and eyelashes.
> 
>  _My baby's lookin' so damn pretty / With those anxious eyes_  
>  Rain-speckled hair / My ring to wear  
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:    
>      [An Answer For Another Day](http://community.livejournal.com/meandthee_wish/11846.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji    
>      [Not What You Think](http://community.livejournal.com/starskyhutch911/302989.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji    
>      [Barefoot And Pregnant](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/12842.html) (Stargate SG-1), by kuonji    
>      [Taking Your Own Advice](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/3690.html) (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji    
>      [After Resurgences](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchslash/classic/Rosemary/AfterResurgences.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by Rosemary  
>      [The General](http://meandthee.shahrazad.net/display.php?storyid=659) (Starsky & Hutch), by Charlotte Frost  
>      [Waiting for a Prop. 8 ruling, one couple reflects on two years of same-sex marriage](http://oaklandnorth.net/2010/07/03/waiting-for-a-prop-8-ruling-one-couple-reflects-on-two-years-of-same-sex-marriage/) (news article), by Lauren Callahan  
>      [City Hall](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rikj0WMGbDU) (song), by Vienna Teng  
>      
>  


End file.
